


Mosaic

by kagaoli



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagaoli/pseuds/kagaoli
Summary: And, collapsing in those familiar arms, he fell apart piece by piece. The scent of the ocean filled his lungs with every wretched inhale past a sob; he buried his face deep into the chest of the other.
Relationships: Mikejima Madara/Shinkai Kanata
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Mosaic

Even if he knew it was all for naught, Madara continued to smile. Even if he didn’t want to; even if he couldn’t find a reason to; even if all he wanted to do was break down this horrid, ugly facade and crumple to the ground.

After all, who would love a hero who couldn’t even love himself?

The feeling of worthlessness crept up on him again; his throat closed off, scratchy and dry, as he searched for words seemingly out of reach. Even if he put up a front, Madara knew deep within the webs of “himself” that he couldn’t stop these pitiful emotions from boiling over. 

Those days were the worst. He would close himself off, play off every hint of concern or worry with a simple wave of his hand and declare, “It’s Mama you’re talking to, you know!” Though truthfully, he presumed that he was just waiting for the moment when someone would see through that accursed front of his. 

He’d retreat to the seaside when it got dark. The feel of a cold breeze through his hair that brushed ever so lightly past his cheeks never failed to calm Madara’s nerves; it was nostalgic in a way, reminding him of a past he might rather forget, yet this surge of emotion welling up inside of his chest screamed to be remembered. He shut his eyes only for a moment and allowed it to wash over him like the soft lap of tide against silver sand.

The crunch of bare skin against sand wasn’t unnoticed, but Madara chose to ignore it for the moment; he didn’t particularly care who it was or what they wanted, and by the sound of their leisurely footsteps they weren’t in a hurry to drag him away from there. He stayed still and quiet, basking in the grey of the moonlight until a thump beside him and a gentle knock to the side of his shoulder prompted him to peek out of one eye.

A dull aquamarine color filled his vision and, if only for a second, he felt blinded by it. He quickly recognized the spread of color to be dampened strands of hair; Madara knew exactly who it was.

“Kanata,” he said, just barely letting the name roll off his tongue. It felt forbidden, as if he was committing some sort of heinous sin just by calling out his name into the summer breeze.

His answer returned in a grumble, much to Madara’s discontent. He shifted around in an attempt to get Kanata to turn his face upwards, but he stopped when the other began to actually speak this time.

“Even rogues feel down, huh,” Kanata muttered, then matching his gaze to Madara’s. He swore he could see a flash in Madara’s eyes, if only for a moment. It was as if Madara was about to shatter—perhaps he was breaking under the weight of his own emotions, or perhaps it was simply that he knew he couldn’t hide it from Kanata—Kanata understood that much. He spread his arms out towards him without another word.

Madara hesitated; did he deserve such comfort? Even if it was nothing but pity, he could grit his teeth and bear it—all of it, just to stay beside Kanata. With what little strength he had left, Madara willed himself to move.

All those painful thoughts of his didn’t matter then.

And, collapsing in those familiar arms, he fell apart piece by piece. The scent of the ocean filled his lungs with every wretched inhale past a sob; he buried his face deep into the chest of the other. 

Kanata said no more, allowing Madara to cry into his thin, white t-shirt until all that was left between them were the damp circles splattered across the fabric. His hands loosely locked together behind large shoulder blades as a silent way of communicating that he wouldn’t let go; Madara was safe there, he always was.

In the wake of their embrace, after the wet under Madara’s eyes had dried up, Kanata carefully combed his fingers back through the other’s bangs, tugging lightly at the strands while watching the moonlight flicker over his pale features. 

He knocked their foreheads together, gently, as a show of affection; he would rather not verbalize it now, for something like fear of ruining whatever little world they were living in together at that moment—just the two of them. He met a gaze of pure emerald, stumbling over his own thoughts as his lips tugged upward into a smile, however slight. It was gone as fast as it arrived, but Madara had caught it. Nothing Kanata did ever seemed to get past him, though it was the same the other way around as well.

That’s just how they were. And it was fine like that.


End file.
